Perceptions of Non Gods
by Scarabbug
Summary: A year after the death of President Luthor, revolution rises against the Justice Lords. [A oneshot of many ficlets. Set in the Lords Universe. Spoilers for A Better World.]
1. Chapter 1

**A series of Justice Lords drabbles and ficlets, connected together, all set in the same timeline (which is roughly a year after the Justice Lords kill President Luthor.) This fic details the rebellion against the Justice Lords and its ultimate downfall, before the arrival of the Justice League as seen in the episode "**_**A Better World**_**". Contains spoilers for that episode. This fic is actually mostly small ficlets put together in a coherent form. **

**Contains references to frankly dozens of Justice League (or rather, Justice **_**Lords**_**,) characters, including the Big Seven. Title is taken from a quote from the anime series, RahXephon: "**_**Any God that man can perceive isn't really a God.**_**"**

"_What are you supposed to do when you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?"  
"Plant your feet." _  
Rex Steward, John Steward, _Justice League Unlimited: The Once and Future Thing, Pt 2._

_"This is the world we live in  
And these are the hands we're given.  
Use them and let's start trying.  
To make it a place worth living in."_  
Disturbed, Land of Confusion.

* * *

**West.**

People (whoever they are, anyway. He's always wondered where that stuff really comes from and whether these "people" actually have names) say that you never hear the bullet that kills you.

Maybe it's true, but the Flash isn't worried. After all it's usual for him to not hear _anything_ when he's travelling at super speed, and bullets can't keep up with him anyway. Usually.

But this one can.

It's also common for him to get dizzy from blood loss before he's even realised he's bleeding, but that doesn't happen this time. He's not dizzy. He's bleeding, but he's not dizzy at all. He's just not quite able to stand up. Something _hit_ him and…

'…Flash? _Flash_!'

Okay. So looks like someone else will have to pull that really cute secretary out of the blaze in the Lexcorp Main Office building. Maybe Wonder Woman, since she's coming this way, or Hawkgirl since she's here now too, and…

And what the heck are they doing here, anyway?

And which of them is it that's _yelling_ so loud?

'Diana, what the _hell_ is going on?'

'I don't know, I… Flash? For Hera's sakes, Flash, look at me!'

He always knew someone would be there when he died. Or he'd always hoped someone would be, anyway. Because living a life like his and then ending it all by dying alone? Would totally suck.

A weird part his brain kind of expected it to be John –who would be there when he died, that is, but it's not. It's Wonder Woman, and she's holding his hand.

Seriously. Of all people. _Wonder Woman_ is holding his _hand_ and he's pretty sure he's lost too much blood here and also pretty sure he's an AB-negative and…

And it really _would_ suck to die alone.

'Diana?'

'It-it's alright. I'm here, I… _Hera_, Flash, _Don't_—'

He can think of worse ways than this. There are _better_ ways too, of course, but hey, Princess of the Amazons. A goddess in the Flesh. Literally. That's kind of cool, right?

'No. He's going to… he'll pay for this, I _swear_ it, he's going to…'

That was Hawkgirl talking. Wally would shrug at her anger, if he could, but he really, _really_ can't, so… No. 'Won't change what happened.'

'I don't _care_.'

Wow.

She really doesn't, does she?

Wally understands what's happening to him. What's happening because he chose to be this and do this and because he _chose_ to be here right now, at the exact wrong moment in a life that's been way, way longer than anyone can ever imagine. His own self-reflection is creeping him out, and…

He wants to tell her his name. His _real_ name, the way they do in old movies, but he can't talk anymore, and anyway she'll probably find out from someone else. Time goes slowly for the Fastest Man Alive. It feels like Diana's been here forever, gripping his hand and talking to her Goddess. Maybe she has.

And that's okay.

Wally can deal with that.

* * *

**Steward.**

It's like a freaking _riot_ out here, and John's not sure where it started.

The Kids are out on the streets in their dozens. From high school, to middle, and even a few who look like they might be elementary age. Central City never had this many punks and lowlifes before, and if there's any organization behind it all, John doesn't have the faintest idea what it is. It's nothing more than child upon child, doing whatever damage they can to whatever happens to be in their path and be damned if John knows _why_ half of them are doing it or where they're coming from.

Scratch that. He knows _why_, and it's only partly to do with what the Piper (or whatever that maniac with the flute calls himself) and the rest of the Rogues that're crawling out of the woodwork of every joint in town are up to. The _where_, as it happens, is everywhere.

The underbelly he never knew this particular city _had_ is staging an uprising. They're angry. And some of them are probably happy, too. Not many, but some. The "bad guys" in particular.

_'They've all been stopped by a Flash.'_

And now there's no Flash.

Maybe the rest of the world can keep going after that fact, but Central City doesn't have a hope in hell. To the people here the Flash is a symbol, take that away and they'll just give up, like something out of the cinema.

_'Unless we_ give _them hope. Unless we help…'_

John makes a promise which sits tight in his throat as he's gathering up the broken glass scattered around a scared woman. No other child is going to lose their hero. Not now, not ever. Especially not here.

**

* * *

**

**Lane.**

Back when she was in-training, Lois had worked for her college paper. Censorship had been _everywhere_ in those days. There were so many things you supposedly couldn't say to young, impressionable teenagers.

You couldn't scare them with talk of local gun crime, for example. You couldn't inform them about trends that were banned in class. You couldn't report formal protests. You couldn't spend an entire article talking about just one subject matter, but had to pack everything you could into a meagre five-hundred words with as little excess detail as possible.

It'd been a writer's _nightmare_. Definitely not Pulitzer material. Not to mention that the Editor? Hated her on sight.

Right now, it feels kind of like she's in college again. With her work crossed out and rewritten and edited until she can barely see herself in there anymore.

'It's for the best,' Perry tells her, but Lois knows he doesn't really believe it.

The world has to know what happened to their President. Lois isn't stupid. She _knows_ the truth. She's pretty sure the public knows too but they need it confirming. They need it put to them in black and white, without dashes of red ink crossing out everything she wants to say, trying to tell her what's right, damn it.

But she needs her job and… She still trusts Superman, at first.

So Lois edits her articles. She doesn't _want_ to, but she does. Because she doesn't have any choice. Because the very concept of free-speech seems to have gone right over the heads of their newfound overlords.

Yeah. Lois knows exactly what they are now, too.

She'd rant about it to Clark, if only…

If Clark still existed.

But he doesn't.

_'Life's tough, Lane,'_ she tells herself. 'You know that. You've /i always_ known that. So either get with the program or get outta the isle.'_

**

* * *

**

**Oslen.**

There have always been pictures on his walls. He got his first camera for his eighth birthday, and he's been taking photos ever since. He's always been right there for the important shots.

The 2000 Olympic Games. The Intergang invasion of the Metropolis Technology Convention. The picture of that really pretty teenager who turned out to be Supergirl. Superman and the Flash's Charity Race. Superman saving Metropolis from Doomsday, Livewire, Volcana and himself. Superman's funeral. Superman's return from the grave he never went into. Wonder Woman at the conference to accept Thymiscria as a recognized nation. That one, brief glimpse of the Batman caught somewhere at the edge of Blüdhaven. Lois's Michael Kelly award. The Justice League (back when they still called themselves a _League_) attending a World Peace ceremony in Africa.

The Flash's body broken against asphalt.

He'd gotten a meeting with Perry for that one.

The photos change as you go along his walls, reaching from the past into the present. Superman saving the Whitehouse from Luthor. Superman saving Metropolis from itself. Lois Lane's "resignation" from the Daily Planet. The death of the President of Kasnia. The queues at the Police Stations during the metahuman registration. The lobotomized mindless shapes of Batman's Rogues Gallery all locked up in a nice, clean, sterile Arkham. The cells in the labs for Metagenetic research. The photographs of Captain Atom and Amanda Waller, being taken into Custody. The breaking up of the pro-election's-now campaign. The outside images of Lois's "apartment" security systems.

Jimmy Oslen's walls are still covered in photographs.

He just doesn't like what he's seeing anymore.

**

* * *

**

**El. **

There is absolutely nothing the matter with Clark Joseph Kent.

He just doesn't exist, that's all. Not outside of a Smallville barn, or that quaint little kitchen on the farm. But _he_ only comes out on holidays and pretty soon he won't show up there either. The sooner they get used to this, the sooner they can all get on with their new lives.

Sometimes Jimmy bites his own lip and Lois hides that one, single _look_ she never uses for Superman. But still, Kal-El doesn't really _miss_ him.

He just doesn't know what to tell ma and pa, yet.

**

* * *

**

**Bertinelli, Lance, Queen.**

There are times when Helena thinks about Superman's eyes burning into Luthor's skull. The pang she feels in her stomach during those times reminds her of things she doesn't want to remember. Like how she used to imagine the death of the man who killed (_murdered, butchered_) her parents.

She still can't believe the way things turned out. But then, nor had she ever believed in the necessity of a dictatorial state. Or the suspension of elections. Or a compulsory embargo and register of metahumans.

She hadn't wanted to believe that Superman killed the president.

But he did.

She heard he used his Heat Vision.

And now she's stood here, (in her bathrobe, damn it) and she doesn't want to believe that they're here. In her _home_, asking her back into the death trap.

'How did you _get_ here, Canary?'

'Through the window.'

'_Not_ what I meant.'

Black Canary looks at her. There's something on her face which isn't really a smile, so much as a bad impression of one. She's a metahuman. _Unregistered_, no doubt. She's… scared, but Helena knows her well enough already to know she won't let terror keep her down. 'I know. I'm just trying to build up to this, seeing as you might not like what we've got to say.'

We've? 'You're not making sense.'

'Then let us enlighten you, Huntress.'

That's when Helena feels a breeze tug her robe and notices the arrow sticking out of her coffee table. He's stood in the darkest corner of the room, skulking there like a freaking bat. 'We're going to take down the Justice Lords.'

* * *

**As mentioned, reviews and concrit are appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A series of Justice Lords drabbles and ficlets, connected together, all set in the same timeline (which is roughly a year after the Justice Lords kill President Luthor.) **

**The second part. Basically a continuation of before, same timeline, same theme, different characters going about their attempt to take down a dictatorship. And we all know how that ends now, don't we? **

* * *

**Gordon.**

Barbara Gordon isn't Batgirl anymore, but he comes to her one night, all the same.

Her dad won't talk about it, but he never talks about the Batman anymore. Barbara doesn't either. She just watches the world go by, seeing things changing right before her eyes. First the president of the USA, then the newly mobilised Watchtower and then…

She doesn't know how to deal with it. She can't get over the betrayal. She can't get over the Penguin's _body_ lying chilled out in his own ice box. And Barbara's seen a lot of bodies –she knows exactly how to get over it. Just not this one.

It felt like some kind of sick joke, at first.

Well. She trained with the Batman, after all, and even though Batgirl is long buried, her instincts aren't. She knows exactly how to spot the signs he always warned her to look out for. She knows them when she sees them manifesting in him.

Dad's going to retire next week, after five extra years in the force. Barbara does well in her tech company. She's been thinking about applying to the Force too, doing something _good_ with all that weights training, but then she saw the new requirements and… she changed her mind. (_'Can't kill._ Won't _kill, no matter what._')

The world is getting neater. Nobody drops little anymore or makes a fuss at h cash register, and people walk about with these weird looks on all their faces, like they're scared of having their minds read.

Maybe that's exactly what they're scared of.

Barbara keeps her head down. Sometimes her fingers itch for a batarang, a jump line or a curled fist, but she always pretends the urges aren't there. The last thing Barbara wants to do is encourage the situation out there. She's changed.

They've all changed.

Then one night he shows up at her window, his face all questions and no answers. It's like he _expects_ something of her. Like the friend-turned-murderer is actually _owed_ something by the girl who used to idolise him.

Used to.

Before he became a murderer and she started finding it too risky to even think about turning him in.

Barbara Gordon explodes at him with a question of her own:

'You never used to think that way. Couldn't have just left things as they were, could you? Tim didn't teach you. _Nothing_ taught you! And look at you now! It isn't _fair_!'

She screams the last part into the shadows where the Batman had been standing. He isn't there anymore. She figures he's already worked her out and has nothing more to say to her.

Always in control. Always.

So her last words to him were childish, Barbara thinks, before going back to her documents and trying to forget he was here.

Barbara Gordon isn't a hero anymore.

She owes it to her father not to be.

* * *

**Hall, Hol**

She remains beautiful and a constant, albeit a very distant one.

Always distant. Her life is her own, their worlds –as of yet– unconnected. But the past keeps calling him towards her. Past lives that neither of them have truly lived but which both are bound to unequivocally. _Teal, oysters, sacrifice…_ He knows her as he knows himself. Perhaps more.

Or at least, he thought he did.

He doesn't know her on the day of the campus shooting. A boy with a gun and an angel with a mace. It's the closest he's ever been to her, standing less than twenty feet away in the midst of a small and horrified crowd. The proximity makes his breath catch in his throat.

And then his breath catches in an altogether different way. The gun goes off with a bang.

He knew the boy, had even taken him for a few classes, and Carter doesn't really blame him for… losing it, in a time like this. He _thought_…

He knew Shayera Hol, too. But now he doesn't know either of them.

Nobody sees the final blow because of all the rubble and smoke, but Carter's heart stops when he hears the gunshot and the high pitched crackle of electricity. Then there are the ambulances and the police, and the body covered with a white sheet. Shayera Hol walking away with her head held high.

The constant has grown strange and disturbing. He no longer sees what history has foretold.

Carter continues to keep his distance.

**

* * *

**

**Sage.**

This doesn't fit in with the conspiracy.

Which is ridiculous of course, because _everything_ fits in with the conspiracy. Except for where the Flash is concerned.

The First Incident: The Flash will die because of Lex Luthor (unexpected, certainly not connected to anything else Vic's ever anticipated before and if he _had_… no. He wouldn't have allowed it. He would've destroyed Luthor himself first rather than allow things to go that far).

Second Incident: Lex Luthor will assume Presidency of the United States (not as a result of the former event, but connected to it nonetheless. The legal situation makes no sense, as not even bribery should have gotten Lex out of it and yet…)

Third Incident: Armageddon, superhero pitted against government, with nuclear detonation swift to follow in a war that would destroy the whole planet (it never happened. Not on schedule, anyway, and the Question is still waiting with baited breath).

None of these things are predictable. None of them happened in accordance with the already existing web of intrigue he knows of, but that's not unusual. These things rarely are, hence why the Conspiracy is such an elaborate bit of logic in the first place. Hence why nobody but him has ever noticed it.

Somehow these things must fit in, and the Question no stranger to things not making sense at first.

This is what he's thinking on the night Helena comes to visit, telling him about Supergirl and the revolution he already had his suspicions existed. Telling him about things the Question knows he _does_ understand. Things he _knows_ are a part of how the world _should_ be, even amidst the conspiracy. Chaos. Discord. Rebellion. Hope.

He only wonders, for the briefest of seconds, whether Huntress is part of the conspiracy, too.

It doesn't take her long to convince him otherwise.

**

* * *

**

**Sage, In-Ze.**

They meet in the mall for coffee one lunch. He's dyed his hair blond and is wearing a flannel shirt (and, of course, there's the fact that she can see his _face_), so it takes a moment for her to recognize him. It would've been funny if she didn't know that she looked no less ridiculous herself, in her black wig and "My face is up _here_" tee-shirt, with an upwards pointing arrow. Ma would cringe to see her.

'Hey, Vic.'

'Kara.'

She's already ordered him a coffee. Black with no sugar, (he didn't seem the type and… well, he drinks it, if only out of politeness).

In the old days Kara would've had tea with the Kent's, and Clark would've had it with no milk and two sugars, probably sneaking in an extra one when he thought Ma wasn't looking.

She misses Clark.

'How're things in Smallville?'

'They're been worse.' Lie. These days, their sleepy little Kansas town has a higher police presence than most of its citizens have ever seen. 'How's New York?'

'Eventful as usual. I've got news.' He shows her the photograph briefly –flashing it from under his shirt. Kara's telescopic vision zooms in on the face. She knows him. 'A boy just moved in across the street. Seems a talented guy. Has a lot of potential.'

Kara's eyes narrow in a mixture of hope and impulsive fear. 'He's good, right?'

'Like I said. Potential. He's got contacts we could use.'

Yeah. Contacts. Kara knows all about the contacts Jimmy Oslen has. She cradles her cup of hot chocolate in her hands and wishes it were a little bit warmer. The early may air seems suddenly cool. 'That's not what I asked. Is he… safe these days?'

Vic leans back in his chair, sips his coffee and… She can already tell he's going to be really _unsafe_ about all this himself.

He never used to take such risks. These days there's not much choice. 'That's the question, isn't it?'

**

* * *

**

**Oslen, Zatara. **

'You're a good kid,' Superman tells him, and Jimmy feels… proud in spite of everything. Heck, when the Man of Steel himself shakes your hand, it's kind of hard _not_ to be.

But when the new Daily Planet "secretary" shakes his hand, it's soft and firm at the same time and it feels the way Clark's handshake used to, and somehow _just_ like Superman's, too. Except that it's not really a handshake. She just takes his hand, and holds onto it. 'Look at me, Jimmy.'

So he looks, and she shows him the things he never took pictures of and couldn't have even if he'd been there to watch them happen. The things he knew but didn't see and therefore could probably have forgotten about, given time and a thicker hide.

Her mask drops away.

'So… so, you're not really…'

'No, I'm not. And you're not who he thinks you are either.'

He should turn her in. This isn't good for the Daily Planet or good for the Real Planet, now that he thinks about it. He should…

'What do you want?'

'Just meet me at the Gotham City Interchange. Twelve-thirty. Make up your mind and we'll see, Jimmy. _Raeppsaid_.'

She vanishes before Jimmy can ask any questions.

**

* * *

**

**Hawkins.**

Actually, he'd been doing okay. At least until the Green Lantern got involved.

Ever since he saw the first news reports about what happened in the Whitehouse (not that he's ever liked Lex Luthor but… damn), Virgil has known that things are going to be different. So far he hasn't liked what he's seen.

When your hero does something like that? You freak out. _Then_ you cool off and start asking questions. You try and get to the bottom of things. But every road taken leads to whopping dead ends. Gear couldn't work out anything either. The internet highway, haven for free speech and open minds, was being shut down one page at a time.

Virgil still kept his head together.

The papers had complained about it, at first. That had made Virgil feel a little better, because at least people weren't staying quiet. Then a lot of papers just stopped production, even in High Schools and Colleges. He can still remember the headline of Dakota's last: MURDER IS THE NEW JUSTICE IN DC? Virgil started getting the Daily Planet, but now that just scares him more than anything else and it's been _six years_ since they last had an election and…

Things just keep getting more and more screwed up. And the worse things get, the less Virgil hears about it.

He kept on trying to do things the old way. He doesn't _want_ to kill. He _won't_ kill. And he remembers when Green Lantern would've told him that too… that's not going to happen anymore.

But anyway, Virgil's dealing with it.

It's Gear who digs up the information on the resistance. Gear who gets them a meeting with Supergirl (thank god _one of them_ is still sane) and the Question. Gear who gets them set up as spies, keeping one eye on the Lords at all times and reporting back whenever they can.

It's hard, but he's doing okay, working hard in school, keeping up the hero business at night. Handling it, just like Green Lantern (the _old_ one) would've told him. When things get tough, plant your feet. Stand tall, don't let them push you around. He won't just sit back and let the Lords run all over him like they are the rest of the planet. He _won't_.

And then they start Metahuman registration.

And… hell, Virgil has _read_ those comic books, he knows exactly how those things turn out.

That's when Static finally bolts. No freaking pun intended.

**

* * *

**

**Hol, Steward.**

'Do you miss it?'

He pauses suddenly in his brushing of her wings. 'Of course not. What's to miss?'

'You know what I mean.'

Yes, he does know. But that's not what _he_ meant, and he's telling the truth when he says he doesn't miss the old days. Even if they were the days when the Flash could make jokes out of apocalypses and buffets out of small town diners.

'Maybe a little, sometimes,' he mutters, and this time she knows what he means.

'Me too. Sometimes.'

He misses the days when they fought about every little thing and Flash would be there sniggering, knowing (suspecting, anyway) what both of them really meant.

They still fight for him. They still _remember_ him, even in peculiar times like this.

'Always for him,' Shayera murmurs, like she's reading John's thoughts, though he's long known that he's unable to read hers. Even J'onn can't reach into her mind.

John wonders, sometimes, what Flash would think of that. What he'd think of the embargo on entering Central City and the gradual removal of democracy.

It's better this way, but…

It's taken John two wars, fifteen political deaths, Lex Luthor taking over at the Whitehouse and a near-apocalypse to work that out. Flash would never have seen those details. Flash could never understand those truths. He would've missed the point entirely.

But the Flash isn't here anymore.

One hand brushes against Shayera's. 'Yeah. I know. Always.'

Shayera turns her wings away and presses into him again, feathers pattering against warm skin. 'So… let's forget him, for a while.'

John can miss the way things used to be, but if this is the present, he thinks he can live without the little details of the past.

* * *

**Reviews and concrit are, as always, appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Part three, same system as per usual. Reviews and concrit are appreciated. **

* * *

**Rayner.**

'Hey buddy, have you been in contact with sector 2814, lately?'

'Sol? No, not for over a year…' Somehow it feels a lot longer when he says it aloud like that, and Rayner realises, the way he always does, just how much he misses those home comforts. Drawing in the parks on Saturday mornings, the drone of public service buses, and the soft tug of gravity that anyone who didn't fly wouldn't even notice. He bites down on the sensation of homesickness. '…Bet I'm really missing out, too. Why?'

'Uh. They're having some… well, some issues, I think.'

Great. Like _that's_ news. Earth is _always_ having issues. It's like the Gotham City of the universe. 'What kind of issues?'

'You'll have to ask John Steward about the details, it's just that we got a kid come to visit us, this morning. She's not a Lantern; she just sorta… flew here. Said she was from earth and brought us some information she thought might be interesting and, uh…'

Kilowog is hesitating. Kyle knows that always means bad news. The kind of bad news that leaves a hole in his gut, same as the feeling the colour yellow used to give him, before he got the hang of his ring. 'There's not much we can do about it, it's not Lantern business, but we just… well, I thought you should know about it, kid.'

So Kyle watches the recordings sent to Oa, and sees that Earth isn't just having "issues". Not in any ways in which Kyle understands the term, anyway. He sees the Flash, and Superman, and the invasion of the Whitehouse. He sees the new president burned to a cinder on cameras that probably shouldn't have been _in_ that room.

He sees the registrations and the martial laws and the new Watchtower, built like a source-wall sentinel in space. Laser weapon pointing _down._

'…The hell?' Kyle breaths.

'Good question, poozer. We're not too sure what's happening there, but whatever it is, it's throwing up some big questions.'

They watch the film together for ten minutes more before the pit drops out of Kyle's stomach. 'Oh, _God_.'

Kyle had always known the world as he knew it would end someday.

He just hadn't wanted it to be on his watch.

* * *

**Oslen.**

He's never been a superhero (he knows superpowers aren't _essential_. He _knows_ that, but it's hard to look at the people down here every day –Supergirl, Black Canary, even Static– and believe it) but he's still a pretty good spy.

All those years of snapping photos, pictures turning up in the paper which people have no goddamn idea how he got hold of. Now he uses those abilities for good, just the way Superman does.

Used to. Still thinks…

Jimmy's not sure anymore. He's having trouble with the rights and the wrongs.

Firing an arrow isn't like snapping a photograph, but the principles are the same. Practise, focus, take aim, fire.

…Miss the target by three feet.

Damn.

'Not bad,' the Arrow's hand rests on his shoulder and the feel of it reminds him of Clark's congratulations after a photo made front page of the newspaper he can't believe in any longer. A part of him still wants it there. 'Not good either. You'll need to do better.'

'Yeah… I will,' Jimmy says, and tries to believe it.

But he doesn't.

* * *

**In-ze, Quinn.**

Kara has never been so humiliated in her life. Except maybe for that time when Batgirl had to pull her out of the sewer and hey –she could laugh about that, these days. _This_ was nothing to laugh about.

She probably should've known better. Batman's Rogues know all about Kryptonite. Most of them by now, of course, have been lobotomized to such a point that none of that information really matters to them.

But Harley Quinn hasn't.

Clark would have chewed Kara out a bit for not thinking ahead if… well.

_Forget about Clark, Kara, focus on the now._

'You've been a busy lil' lady, haven'tcha, Supergirl?' Harley Quinn watches her from behind the desk, all smiles. 'S'a big underground, ya know? Things get out no matter how much you try to hide em.'

Kara takes a breath and wills herself not to throw up under that sickly green slice of light which Harley has hanging like a pendant around her neck. 'And… and how did _you_ get away from Arkham?'

'Oh, I was never in _there_, sugar. They never got hold of me. I know these streets, y'see. My puddin' showed me how to get out of all these creepy little places. Blowin' places up works well, but ventilation shafts are good too. He's just the most considerate guy. Used to be, anyways.'

_Delusional freak_, is what Kara thinks, but doesn't say out loud. It wouldn't matter, even if the Joker hadn't already been lobotomized. 'F-fine… whatever, good for you. Now…' any questions she has fail on her tongue in favour of nausea. Sje really _hates_ the nausea.

Harley giggles. 'Tell ya what, Supergirl. I'll untie ya, if you ask me real nicely.'

Kara grimaces. 'I could… lock you up, you know. Turn you in to… Superman.'

'Aw, c'mon, everyone knows you can't go near him. Besides, if ya did I'd just spill the beans on your lil' resistance down here, now wouldn't I?'

Busted.

'Now c'mon, sugar. What's the sitch? Tell Harley Quinn aaaall about it and she'll put the nasty green rock away. She just wants to know about her puddin', that's all. Isn't that what everyone wants, these days, hmm? To know where the people they love are, hmmm?'

Something in Harley's eyes is… sad, maybe? It's hard for Kara to tell through all that greasepaint and total _craziness_.

'I… guess.' Always better to agree with the kidnapper. Especially when they have kryptonite.

Kryptonite. _Urgh._ 'So… so what do you want, anyway? Leverage with Batman, or something?'

'Nah, we all knew the Bat was like us really, anyway. It's you I'm here for.'

'Why?' Kara knows she shouldn't waste time asking (her stomach feels like it's doing barrel rolls) but she still has to know.

Harley just looks at her. 'Cause I've got something I wanna protect now too, of course. That's all.'

When she stands up, Kara sees her stomach for the first time, swollen beneath too-tight red and black. She must be at least six months gone.

'Oh, _Rao_. You're…'

'Sure am, Supergirl. Not long now, either. Dunno what it's gonna be though. I hope it's a boy,' she smiles widely. _Unnaturally_, but it's still… it's still a _mother's_ smile and Kara thinks she might just freak out right here and now. 'I really wanna little boy, just like my puddin'. It won't be so bad, then, if he's not here anymore, y'see? So, what'cha say to it, Supergirl? You scratch my back an' I'll scratch yours, right?'

They really shouldn't trust a bad guy, but think of the knowledge she must have of Arkham. The information she must have about the Batman if they could just get her to talk sense long enough to get it out of her. Those _weapons_…

And if she really _is_, then… well, the kid wouldn't have a prayer out here.

That strange, sad glimmer is back in Harley's eyes. The one Kara thinks was probably sane, once. Probably.

Besides, she needs to get _away_ from that kryptonite, like now.

'…All… alright, Harley,' she says, softly. 'Would… would you untie me… please?'

The harlequin smiles her painted smile and she reaches out and ruffles Kara's hair, which doesn't make Kara flinch half as hard as she expected it to. 'Of course I will, sweetie. See, that was sure easy, wasn't it?'

* * *

**Oslen, Queen.**

'Regular action man, aren't ya, kid? You know, sooner or later, you're going to have to actually _hit_ a target.'

'I know, Green Arrow.'

'The target might also be moving. And in the middle of a crowd of innocent civilians.'

'I _know_, Green Arrow.'

'Not to mention able to withstand blasts of up to—'

'GA, that is _so_ not helping me!'

'Neither will missing the target in battle. Try again… No, not that one, that's a _tranquilizer_ dart. Try the Boxing glove arrow. Ten rounds.'

'Aw, _man_.'

* * *

**Kyle, Bertinelli.**

'There was this cat, you see…'

'This… cat?' Of course there was. She's _Catwoman_ after all, but… Huntress still isn't certain exactly where this story is supposed to be going. Catwoman just turned up on her rooftop, and given Catwoman's somewhat… intimate history with the Batman, trusting her really shouldn't come as naturally to Helena as it does. Somehow, though, Helena… believes her. And has believed every word she's said ever since she padded out onto the rooftop and joined Huntress in her stakeout.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the first thing Catwoman did upon meeting her? Was tell Huntress her _name_.

Selina. Selina Kyle.

Must be desperation talking. And the more members they can get the better. 'And what exactly did this animal do?'

Selina hisses under her breath. 'This cat died falling off a fifty story block, gorgeous, that's what.'

'How sad for it,' Huntress says, and somehow she resists the urge to make a crack about cats always landing on their feet. She knows how Catwoman would act about that. 'He killed it?'

'He _allowed_ it to die,' she shrugs her shoulders and Helena watches her shadow move, slinking animal-like across the rooftop. 'That was all I needed to know. He's not there anymore.' Her fingertips –claws? No, Catwoman can't be _that_ weird– brush across Helena's shoulder. She feels Catwoman smile against her shoulder blades, she can almost feel her _purring_, for gods sakes. 'Besides, why be a thief in a town like this, where the death penalty is standard issue? It's too quiet. You understand?'

'From thief to freedom fighter, huh?' Helena mutters, but there's no irony in her voice, this time.

'Says the Little Miss Mafia. Now are we going to make some deals here…Or are we going to get off this room and out of the cold? I happen to have some friends to feed.'

**

* * *

**

**Nelson.**

Once upon a time, the Thanagarian told him that the words of the spells he spoke to her were the closest things Thanagar had to prayers. He uses them these days, when he thinks of her, and they are not spells in his mind any longer, nor do they have the power he needs.

Inza calls him to the library, and her thoughts are scattered and worried. Fractious. _' Kent?'_

_'Yes. I know.'_ The child is here to speak with him about the End of the World (not that anyone is expecting that, yet). Some call her the child of Superman, though there's little truth in that. They're cousins in solar system alone. She is not like her Kryptonian relative. There is still hope and faith in her heart. There must be, for her to have found him here, with the tower poised right on the edge of her dimension.

He knows very well. He knew it long before anyone else did. _'Tell her… I will be there post haste. I will talk with her for a while.'_

He will protect his wife and his work. Then he shall see to assisting the people.

Inza nods in his mind. _'I'll make tea.'_

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four. I'm trying to get a little dicier here… well, it _is_ the Lords-verse, after all. You're about to start seeing a body count, so a warning here for character deaths, if I haven't warned you already. **

* * *

**Mason, Stewart.**

Rex remembers the last battlefield they fought on.

It wasn't the way things were in _the old days_, way back when it was all trench warfare and history class material, but it still wasn't _nice_. Their cadre used to spend weeks camped out in No Man's Land with nothing but half a dozen bullets between them and the enemy.

There'd been this one guy in their company called Thomas Gibley, who went and stepped on a land mine that ripped both his legs off and tore through his gut, but didn't _quite_ do enough damage kill him (not straight away). They'd been miles away from a medical base, giving him no chance of long term survival.

Rex remembers how they'd all debated which of them would have to do it. In the end John volunteered, because it was just too much to hear the poor man screaming anymore, nothing but suffering with no end in sight. No future, no hope.

Better a quick end than a slow and bloody one.

Gibley… he had smiled at John, when he did it. As if he was honestly _happy_. Like John was his saviour from a slow, cold death. Which really, he was.

John had read the sermon when they buried him, too. Then they hadn't looked at each other for a week, and when they finally met eyes after coming out of a standoff… Well.

'You don't have to do this.'

'You know it doesn't work like that, Rex.'

'I know, but, John I… God, we're friends, aren't we? You _can't_.'

'I know. You just don't get it, and I don't know how to explain.'

John had had the same look in his eyes as he did that day out in the battlefield, gently placing the barrel of his rifle into Private Gibley's mouth. Apologising.

'Try, John. _Make_ me understand. It doesn't have to be like this.'

'No. You won't. And it does.'

Out of every member of the Justice Lords John has probably changed the least. He never liked killing and Rex knows he still doesn't but… it's an option, the same way it was all those years ago in No Man's Land, simply because it's better than the alternative. The alternative being slow, painful, and bad for everyone involved.

John's hand still shakes, even as it glows green and… he doesn't _want_ to do this. He doesn't, but he will. He'll kill Rex, because Rex is an enemy of peace.

No. Not Rex. Just _Metamorpho_ now.

Because John thinks this is the right thing to do. Because he won't betray Superman. Because Rex just helped to destroy so many weeks of military effort the Justice Lords had dedicated themselves to in the Middle East. Because he stopped somebody getting shot and got himself stuck here, with John, because of it.

That's why Rex is so confused by everything that's happened, since the Lords took control, but…

Yeah. He kind of understands them. John, anyway.

Because John never quits. And Rex? Well, Metamorpho never quits either. No matter how bad things get. It's just that maybe they're not fighting for what they think is the same thing anymore.

'I'm sorry that you won't see my kid born.'

Metamorpho doesn't break the gaze he has fixed upon the Lantern's and the sharp, jagged weapon forming out of green light. He'd guessed somehow. He knew about Shayera.'You were right. Something did happen with us, after Flash died. You won't get to meet him, but I'm going to name him after you, I…' When he says '…I'm sorry, Rex,' Rex knows that John means every word with all his heart.

Dying comes more easily then, just as it must have done for Private Thomas Gibley.

* * *

**Hawkins, In-Ze.**

'Virgil?'

'What do you want?'

'Nothing, I just... are you okay?'

'That's not exactly a bright question, _Supergirl_.'

'No, I… yeah. I know. But are you?'

'No.'

'Figured you weren't. Wanna talk about it?'

'…'

'Look I know he was your hero. He was a lot of people's hero, they _all_ were, and none of us ever used to think they'd be like this, it's just… well. It's that saying isn't it? The one about absolute power?'

'Next time I'm not holding back.'

'What?'

'You heard me. I won't let him do this anymore. Not to anyone else. Not again. The way he killed him… he's not the person I thought he was anymore.'

'I know.'

'I believed in him, you know. When they brought out the papers first thing I thought was that it was Sinestro again, all lies and disguises. It couldn't have been him. It _couldn't_. Not _Green Lantern_.'

'I know. I thought the same thing about Superman… took three phone calls to convince me otherwise.'

'I didn't believe it about Batman either, I… his butler took splinters outta my arm once, you know?'

'Virgil—'

'I could kill him. I really could.'

'You don't have to be like that.'

'Why the _hell_ not?'

Because that's the way that _they_ are, Virgil. That's the way the _Justice Lords_ think, and it's what got us all into this mess. Because they were angry and wanted to fix it.'

'You know a lot about this stuff, huh?'

'No, I just know Superman. Or at least, I used to. Not anymore.'

'And what if one day it's the only way to stop them, Kara? What if the only way to put an end to this?'

'I don't know. I'm not sure what I'll do then.'

'So. You wanna talk about it now?'

'Yeah. Sure thing, just… Let's get down from the rooftop, yeah? I'm freezing my butt off out here.'

**

* * *

**

**Quinn, Kyle, In-Ze.**

'Oh! Oh wait, I've got it, I've got it!'

'Oh for god's sakes, Harley, not _again_.'

They've had this talk a hundred times before.

The first dozen or so times it had creeped Kara out, but now it's a strange kind of daily ritual. Whenever Harley isn't talking about her puddin', or messing with those nifty toy guns of hers or complaining about all the disturbingly _normal_ problems associated with being pregnant and a harlequin, she's talking about baby names.

At least she's not wearing the greasepaint anymore.

'I was thinking maybe… Jack, or Jessica. But that'd be a girl and I'm totally not into that. Ooh! Or J.J.! There, don't you think that's the _cutest_ name?'

'How about you try a name that _doesn't_ begin with a J?' Selina says, dryly, with very little interest.

'Aw, back off, kitty cat, there's nothing wrong with "J".

'That depends entirely upon what you're trying to imply.'

Harley's face goes sour and somehow that makes her look more like her old self –the self that dressed in red and black. Now the only part of her costume Harley wears is the domino mask, to hide her eyes. She calls herself _Misfit_. It works. Sort of. 'Imply schimply, kitty girl, you'd probably call it Cuddles or something.'

'Which would still be a distinct improvement on "J. J.".'

'Don't you talk about my J.J. like that!'

Something gets thrown, Kara _thinks_ it's probably a frying pan, but she's too engrossed in her Gotham-New York Sewer Link schematics to pay the warring women much heed. It's like this every morning anyway, and things always calm down by the time everybody else has shown up. They're changing safe houses this week; anyway, all Kara has to do is ensure she puts these two in places as far away from each other as possible.

'J.J.'s a _good_ name, stupid, or… hey, what about Jason? Jason's _lovely_.'

'Harley, I honestly don't _care_ what you call the kid, it's not exactly our main area of attention right now.'

'Fine! You be that way, lady. Just 'cause your biological clock probably works in _seasons_.'

'_What_ was that?'

'Hah! Not _so_ much like a cat after all, eh?'

Catwoman hisses. Kara continues staying out of it. 'Why you _little_…'

Kara hears a light shriek of laughter followed by a choke and a muttered string of annoyed incoherencies from Harley as she rushes off again to do God-only-knows what. There's a light thump, presumably of Catwoman's head hitting the table. 'Oh, God, I'm _dreading_ the day.'

Kara shrugs, but doesn't look up from her work. She doesn't want to think about that kind of thing: an unborn children who hopefully (please, for the love of _Rao_) won't have _anything_ in common with it's parents.

Who wants to bring a kid into this world anyway? Much less in the cheerfully careless way weapon-totting Harleen Quinzel is doing it.

Harley still creeps her out, most days. But Kara would honestly be more worried if she didn't.

The kid won't have much of a prayer anyway, regardless of who its parents are.

**

* * *

**

**Hall, Carter.**

Don has to admit, being around both of them at at the same time is almost enough to make him consider forgetting his lifelong abhorrence towards violence. Almost.

'When the hell did you discover the great delights of humour, Don? _All night?_ You can't be serious.'

Dove sighs. 'I think the mission said to stay as long as it takes, Hank. Even all night. We should keep watching the target. And Booster; I don't think this is a good time for preening.'

Well, _someone_ has to try and be the mature one, right? That's what Wo...

...What any member of the _League _would have said. 'Hey, what you call preening, bird boy, I call important dress rehearsal.'

'Important dress…' Dove frowns in spite of himself (or maybe because of) 'For _what_?'

'End of the rebellion, trust me, when this is over…'

'But Booster, that could take _years_—'

'Could. It _could_ also take until lunchtime tomorrow if the Question is anything to go by. I live in hope, man.'

'Of getting your picture taken?'

'Of getting _out_ of all this alive... _and_ the picture. I don't wanna look like I stepped outta a war trench when they're all being snap-happy at the whitehouse, see?'

'You don't honestly think it's that important?' (Or that it's that _easy_) 'Booster, come _on_…'

Booster laughs too loudly for someone who's supposed to be on a stake out. '_Relax_, Dove. Anyway, there aren't any real trenches round here. Though trust me, a guy needs to look good for his public. I'll save you a spot in the paper'

'Ah… thanks. That's appreciated?'

'Man, Hawk, your brother's a _riot_, isn't he?'

'Stakeouts do that to the guy. Well, actually, _most_ things do that to him. Trust me; you should've seen him out in the cold when he was eight.'

'Really? With all that white you'd think he'd be right at home.'

Take a deep breath. Maintain pacifism. Do not –repeat, not– get annoyed at sibling and sibling's new partner in crime. He'll only blow their cover.

Besides, his powers only work for self defence.

The only irony is that, technically, this really _does,_ count as an illegal activity. 'Are you two going to continue heckling or are you actually going to help me do our job? Good grief I'm going to ask for stakeout with _Static_ next time, I swear.'

A hand slings itself around Don's shoulder before he can protest. He drops his binoculars. 'C'mon, Don, this is meant to be _your_ area. Relax a little already, it won't kill ya.'

'No,' Don says, sighing through his teeth.

And then he pushes his brother to the ground. Any attempt Hank could have made at protest falls silent when a narrow burst of green light bypasses his ear, missing both him and Booster Gold by millimetres before fading into the concrete of the apartment rooftop. 'But _that_ might.'

Dom smiles in spite of himself, but the smile fades when he glances down from the rooftop.

Busted. 'Well, you wanted action, Hank,' Dove says as innocently as he can. 'Looks like you got it. So who wants to take Wonder Woman?'

**

* * *

**

**Lance, Whitmore.**

'This is such a mess.'

'Hey, take it easy, it… I didn't do _that_ badly, right?'

Didn't do _that_ badly. Sure. Canary clenches her still hurting fists against her also-still-hurting sides and tries not to wince at the bruises and cuts.

'The instructions were to stop the vehicle, Courtney. _Stop it_. Get the kryptonite. Leave. Not _blow the whole goddamn thing up_!'

'I said I was sorry!'

'Sorry doesn't help us!'

Kid doesn't even have the goddamn staff anymore and yet she _still_ manages to obliterate a whole damn armed procession. She has no idea how the hell it happened. She has no idea where it all started, but she knows it was something to do with Courtney.

She doesn't care much about the details. People are…

People have gotten hurt. _Their_ people, amongst many others. Barbara won't be walking for a while.

Courtney bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. Or perhaps the blood was already there. She certainly looks cut-up enough. 'Look, it was totally an _accident_, alright? A-and the kryptonite is destroyed anyway, so you don't have to… For god's sakes, don't—'

'Don't have a prayer, Stargirl!' Canary yells 'Don't have a prayer, we didn't have one before the mission, and we have even less of a one now. We didn't stop it. We screwed up, all of us. Don't have a _prayer_.' She says it before she can stop herself because it's just…

It's not true. It's not. She's just _angry_, that's all. Angrier than she's been in weeks. Or maybe she's just been bottling it, waiting for a chance to let it explode. The stress is grinding on all of them lately. The explosions have just pushed them over the edge.

When she turn around again and allows her fingers to unclench from their fists, Stargirl –no, she's just Courtney, now, isn't she? Since Superman smashed her staff into pieces. Just normal, plain old Courtney Whitmore who is brave enough to fight, in spite of everything.

Who looks like she's going to burst into tears any second, but is still trying so hard to be a hero. Trying so hard, like all of them are.

The cry in Canary's throat twitters and dies. 'Oh, Courtney, I'm sorry.'

Just a kid. Just a kid who is sitting on the bed with tears running down her face.

Dinah has to hug her, really. Luckily, Courtney doesn't hold a grudge.

* * *

**Reviews appreciated? You know the drill. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Steadily approaching the end of this series of one-shots-lain-out-as-a-total-fic. There is but a single chapter/epilogue afte this. Reviews and concrit are, as ever, much appreciated. **

**Remember what I said about that body count?**

* * *

**Hall, Price, Wayne.**

He thought she was beautiful the first time he met her. Scary, but beautiful, too. Strong and powerful and unbreakable, with his brother's fierceness and… something else. Something not quite human at all.

He supposes that's what _everyone_ thinks the first time they meet Wonder Woman.

The Batman is similar, only he's just frightening instead of beautiful. The awe that they both inspire is the same.

She's _still_ beautiful even now. Her hair is cut short and… he likes it that way, actually. Which is a really stupid thing to think, now that he's looking up at her face (sour, bitter, as if he's personally affronted her and he supposes he _has_, really) from the ground, with the… the sharp whatever-it-is that's sticking rather painfully out of his chest. The thing still held tight in Batman's hand.

He wonders what it's like to die from blood loss, decides he doesn't want to know, then remembers that he's about to find out anyway. That's why he's here, lying on the concrete, and why the sirens are screaming so loud, and why Wonder Woman is holding his hand, even though she's _glaring_ at him. The Batman isn't saying or doing anything.

Stupid mistake, getting caught up like this. In his mind, Hank is telling him that he should've done something more than just _block_ them. For goodness sakes, who the hell tries to _block_ Wonder Woman?

He knows she's not the one who's hurt (killed) him, though. It feels… kind of strange, how little he minds the fact that it was probably the Batman.

Funny thing. Most people these days just call him "Batman", as if it's his real name, but in his mind, Don never left out the "the" at the beginning. It was always "The Batman" in his mind.

'…Is Hank alright?

Wonder Woman pauses, her fingers brushing his cheek. She's not scowling anymore which… is good, he supposes. Not that it matters now.

'Yes,' He's not sure if she's telling the truth, her face flickers but… her eyes are okay. Colder than he remembers them but… Yeah. They're okay, really. He doesn't think she's lying to him. She might be, but…

'But you didn't… I mean…' he tries to think. Tries to remember how he got here and whether Hank was even with him in the first place and… Now that he thinks about it, he probably wasn't.

'Hank's still loose as far as we know, Don. We don't know where he is.' And that was Batman. Cold and blunt and… Don has only heard him speak a few times, and every time he sounded just like that. Cold, blank and terrifying.

'Oh… Good.' That's all he needs to know, really. Then he remembers what else he has to say. 'And… and for the record… I'm not... saying anything.'

'I know you're not,' the Batman says. And that's when Don realizes Wonder Woman has walked away and it's just the two of them.

He doesn't understand that. He doesn't understand _them_, but maybe there's still something in Wonder Woman that is connected to the person he knew once. She's not bad. Not really. Not deep down. So she doesn't want to _watch_ this. 'There'd honestly be no point. I know you. You're loyal to your cause. You won't speak anymore than we've heard.'

There's something worrying about those last words, but… Don can't think what it is, so he just smiles in spite of it all and thinks that maybe there's more to the Batman than people realise, too. Even if he is a murderer. 'It's... it's alright, really, you know, I'm not… mad.'

The Batman's fingers brush beneath his eyes. Don thinks that maybe he's crying. Crying. In front of the damn _Batman_. He hopes he's not. Hank would _so_ chew him out for it. 'Are… you?'

'Kids make mistakes. I'm not mad about that,' the Batman says.

This time, Dove is certain he believes him.

But Batman (_the_ Batman) is also wrong. Just like he's wrong for killing and corrupting. Just as he's wrong for not letting go.

Don knows he hasn't made any mistakes.

* * *

**McCabe.**

Hawk loses it not long after the Justice Lord's take his brother's body away.

Mari can't say she blames him, but seriously –trying to take out half a City Mall in an attempt to get to the Lords? Suicidal, right from the start.

At least the kid had waited until the place was _empty_ first.

'It's because of the magic,' Zatanna says, and they leave it at that, because there's really no better explanation. Hawk is unbalanced, there's nothing left to steady him and focus the power he has. He's all violence with no temperance. No peace. He seeks an outlet for grief and rage and there is no one who can help him when he turns on the Lords, except for one person, and that person is dead.

The resulting destruction provides great publicity for the otherwise unpopular Justice Lords, (though no one dares speak their discomfort aloud) and causes yet more uncertainty about the rebellion underground.

Mari tries not to let it dishearten her. Sometimes, she thinks it's as hard for them as it must be for Hawk. Sometimes she feels like crushing the mall flat, too.

And she still can't believe she ever had a _crush_ on that Green Lantern. Of all the crazy…

Still, it doesn't matter now. To be honest, for a while, _nothing_ much matters. Too many dead, too much pain… She feels the animals burning within her, all of them _angry_ and intuitively afraid. She has so many instincts; she just doesn't know what to do with them. Mari's own hawk instructs her not to panic. Keep to the skies, watch for her pray. Do not be caught in the sights of a gun.

They're all losing their balance these days. Very little is constant anymore.

* * *

**In-ze, Hawkins.**

Virgil is getting really good at those long distance jumps.

They train together a lot these days. She fights for him in the times when he can't, he goes out for her when she can't quite blend in well enough with the public to get away with it. No one knows Virgil Hawkins is a member of the underground. Is human life carries on, as normally as anyone's can in this world.

'Ooh, ow, that looks like it hurt. You're supposed to _catch_ the boomerang, you know.'

'Ha… freaking… ha.'

Which isn't, actually, all that normal at all, but… It's more than Kara has. More than she might ever have again.

She's a fugitive.

But still. They can train together, and he's not the kind of person she might normally have made friends with, but she likes him. He's young enough to understand, and he gets what it's like to have your hero ripped away from you. or watch them push you back like you don't exist.

'So, wanna try that again?'

'Ow… yeah I… ow… just let me… ow…'

'Get your breath?'

'…Ow.'

'Thought so.'

'Hey, we can't _all_ have superpowers, Kent.'

Kent.

It still hurts when people call her that, but Kara let's them because she knows better than to let them see that it bothers her. She's dealing. Virgil's dealing. They're _all_ dealing.

'Okay, let's try this from the top. Remember duck _then­_ dodge, or else it really doesn't… you know, work?'

'Supergirl, you're not funny, seriously, man, stop _trying_.'

It's all any of them can do, really. And the League will be moving soon. Moving out to a new safe house, a new place to hide, a new place to plan their next assault.

Kara will lead them. And that thought creeps her out almost as much as it makes her want Ma here, to hug her and be proud of her.

It's good to have a friend who understands.

* * *

**Sage, Bertinelli.**

In all honesty, he should have expected the Manhunter.

That's what they call him now. The Martian Manhunter, like he's some kind of sentry to the cause of (their idea of) justice. The Question thinks the new name fits. He knows how much J'onn frightens people, he's simply angry with himself because he actually forgot _why_.

The guy's a _telepath_.

'Q, look, I really don't see what good all that _foil_ is going to do.'

'No, me neither, but if you've got a better idea?'

'Q—'

'No, _listen_ to me.' He grips her shoulders and… her skin is too warm under his hands, the way it flushes when she's excited, or afraid.

Definitely afraid. 'It's over, Helena. The resistance –it's over and you have to go. _Warn_ them. It's not too late to get there, but—'

'Q, baby, you're not making _sense_.'

The Question laughs.

Well, it's funny. 'Nothing new, Huntress. Not to you. Just… Helena, its J'onn. The _Martian Manhunter_.'

She freezes when he says that and he feels the warmth draining out of the side of her trying to hold him back from the door. '…Vic?'

'He'd been reading my mind. Reading _all_ of our minds, for _months_ now… maybe longer, I can't be sure, we just… God.' And he knew. He _knew_.

Vic swears, and something seems to _bubble_ in his brain. The paper conspiracies lining the wall fade away to a million black scars against white. Incident One, Incident Two…

Still no incident Three. Not yet. _Not yet._ There's still hope. There has to be.

And for the first time in his life, the Question stops caring about the conspiracy.

**

* * *

**

**Jonzz, El.**

_'Superman.'_

'I'm busy, J'onn, whatever it is, can it wa—'

_'No. We believe we have located Kara.'_

'…Where is she?'

_'Somewhere at the edge of Gotham. It… it's not dignified to use my powers in such a way but we_ have_ found her. We're rounding in on the area now. They don't know we're coming. Our scout teams estimate a total of no more than thirty-five people in the building. Kara is one of them.' _

'…'

_'Superman?' _

'I… Yeah. I'm coming. Wait for me, just… don't move until I get there, alright?'

_'Of course not. We'll be waiting, Clark.'_

'Don't call me that. Superman out.'

**

* * *

**

**In-ze, Jonzz.**

Helena gets there in time to warn them. Just. When she arrives there are tears of rage and pain on her face and Kara works it out from that. The Question is dead and the Lords are coming.

She never really considered super hearing a virtue. The explosions are already pounding in her head long before they've even begun. She knows they're coming. J'onn has already called them.

Called the Justice Lords _right_ here, to their doorstep and…

_'Poor girl. You don't understand.'_

…And now _he's_ screwing with her head, sticking pictures in there that she knows don't belong, making them flash through her brain as fast as lightning, and that's such a 'bad joke it makes her want to laugh and cry at the same time, because…

Because there's Flash's body, and Luthor's and Vixen's and Don's and so many others. Every single person who's dead or dying because of all _this_. Because of resistance. Kara's not even sure where it started anymore.

_'We would like you to help us, Kara. You are all he has left.'_

Kara doesn't know what to do.

She needs Clark. She wants him to be here so _badly_, so she can ask him for a plan of attack. She wants someone to guide her, lead her, tell her things will be okay.

_'They_ shall

Or maybe he's telling the truth. It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter if he reads her mind or not. He knows where she stands. Where all of them stand.

Kara shuts him out as best as she can.

'So, any ideas, _Supergirl_?' Huntress says. Kara doesn't like the tone of her voice, but doesn't say anything because… hey, Supergirl is still the one in charge here, right? It's obvious no one has a better idea.

'Draw a line in the sand,' Kara whispers. 'Hold them here and let the kids get away.'

Canary looks doubtful. So she should. She knows what Kara's asking of her. The entire apartment block is surrounded. There are no exits, and even if there were any, they'd soon be found.

Kara isn't certain exactly where that "line in the sand" is supposed to be, but she'll try and defend it anyway.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**This is technically a sort of final-chapter plus epilogue. I'm happy to be able to mark this story as complete but… who knows, maybe one day in the future my brain will churn out something further for me to add. I'd like that. **

**Standard disclaimers apply. Concrit is _not_ discouraged (give as much as you wish) but any errors, unless major, are now likely to stay that way until the day comes when I decide to rewrite the thing, as, knowing me, it well might. A list of homage and gacks comes at the end of the fic. **

* * *

**In-ze.**

Black Canary starts things off by screaming. As loud as she can, right at the Manhunter's face. She goes down first. Gets up. Goes down again.

Harley Quinn is next, with that freaky-ass gun of hers, shooting like the mad thing she is. Oliver is… somewhere, but Supergirl can't see him: he's hidden (not well enough) up in the shadows and arrows are flying left right and centre, with too great an accuracy to be Jimmy's. Vixen is giving the cry of an animal Kara can't even identify but whatever it is, it's big and heavy and ploughs into Wonder Woman like a tank. Not that that stops her.

They won't be stopped, and Supergirl…

Supergirl throws her whole body into it and hopes her cousin won't kill _her_. She has no doubts about what he'll do to the others. _If_ they're caught.

They _won't_ be caught. She won't allow it, not while she can still draw a breath.

* * *

**Quinn, Oslen.**

He hasn't hit a target, yet. Not that he'd honestly expected to. Things are happening so _quickly_—

'Psst!'

He's not sure where Harley came from. She grabs him by the next and pulls him out of the corridor he's running down in an attempt to help Virgil.

'What? H-Harle—'

'Don't talk, stupid! They'll find us if you talk, be _quiet!_'

She doesn't explain anything much, just shoves a warm bundle into his hands and starts rooting around in cupboards and closets, ignoring the burst of whatever-the-hell-that-was flying past the window.

'Where did I put it…? Stupid, stupid, stupid Superjerks… If my _puddin'_ were here…' She stops digging, drags something out and shoves that into his hands too. It's a red and green pacifier with a smile on the back. 'There! Now he doesn't have to be sad when he's away from his mommy!'

Jimmy looks at her expectantly. Downstairs he can hear screams and cries and something small exploding. 'Well?' Harley shrieks. 'What're ya still doing here? Run, you idiot!'

And then Jimmy finally realises what she wants. 'But Quinn, I--'

'Don't be a stupid superjerk, Oslen!' Harley practically screams at him, her eyes wide behind the domino mask. 'Go, leave, get out now… please, before the superfreaks get here and take him?'

That last part almost seems like a question. A plea. 'I…'

'_Please_, they can't have my baby they _can't_. You have to look after him for me, 'cause everyone else here would just treat him awful, even Supergirl! Just because he's my puddin's!'

He wants to tell Harley she's wrong. That it's all going to be okay, and Supergirl would never treat anyone badly, but… he knows that Harley isn't stupid and that's not really why she's asking. Jimmy's the only one who can get away from this. Jimmy's the only one who…

'You're not a superhero, you're not, you don't _have_ to be, and you can take my baby away! Superman _likes_ you, he might…' She rips the domino mask from his eyes. Which hurts, a little but not as much as the look on her face does. 'He… he might let you go.'

She's staring at the small bundle in his arms, tears making lines on her cheeks. And maybe it's that which convinces him, because Jimmy clutches the softly mewling bundle a little tighter in his arms and heads directly for the first escape.

**

* * *

**

**Whitmore**.

She had been doing okay with all this. Until the staff broke, that is.

Superman is weak against magic so really, she had no freaking idea how it happened. One minute she could feel the familiar pounding pressure tickling like stardust (exactly like it) in her fingertips. Then the power and energy rush out, as if they're being sucked away with a vacuum. It takes her minutes to realise that Green Lantern was involved with that.

By the time she noticed, it was too late. And S.T.R.I.P.E tried to fix it, they all did, but nobody knew enough about magic to be sure. So her connection was severed, just like that, along with all her powers.

And god, she misses S.T.R.I.P.E right now. She misses having that huge shoulder to ride on and the smile only she could see through the armour plating. She hates not being to complaint to him about things that don't matter. She misses her powers. Stars and Stripes, she misses…

She misses so _much_.

And now she's here. Fighting the Justice Lords, in some rundown estate on the edge of Gotham. No powers, no mask, no nothing. She's fairly sure the Manhunter already knows who she is and…

And that was Black Canary she just saw getting thrown through a wall.

They are so dead.

'Go easy on her, she's just a kid.'

Just a kid, huh? Right. But the broken remains of the staff tremble in her fingertips and… she doesn't even know why she brought it out. It's not like it works anymore. Still, she thought she'd feel better holding it, even splintered and broken as it is.

She can't help but shake. Because she's scared and for god's sakes he just _broke_ the freaking Staff!

She doesn't have any powers now, she…

She doesn't have anything.

She tries to punch him all the same. Superman, that is. As hard as she can while he's reaching out to lift up Dinah and… Dinah doesn't move as she's lifted, and Courtney's fist… he doesn't even act as if he _felt_ it. He probably didn't.

He won't listen to her when she screams at him.

Nobody listens anymore.

**

* * *

**

**Hawkins.**

Dying would be easy, really.

Or maybe not. Hell knows he's been in some scrapes before, but never anything quite like this.

The Lords have a way of making things difficult.

Harley goes down with a simple shriek almost the second she reappears from wherever the hell she vanished to, Hawk destroys everything that comes near him with a frightening kind of anger, and Virgil doesn't even _know_ where Gear came from (_'told him to get away from here, damn it!'_) but he's not going to complain about it. The arrows keep flying.

The energy building in his fingertips dies the second the Lantern slams into him.

And Supergirl goes down soon after. He isn't sure who hit her, exactly. Maybe one of the normal men with guns, maybe Green Lantern or maybe it doesn't really matter. She happens to fall to Static's left and their eyes meet hard across the concrete floor. He can hear Huntress quipping and swearing, but that's all he can hear part from the racket and the familiar buzz of static energy in his ears.

_'This is what is necessary. We shall not allow the state to be compromised. We will not allow it. You must understand.'_

God bless America, huh? When was the last time Virgil had ever heard anyone say something like that? It feels like years ago, back in Dakota, in some damn boring history class. _God Bless America, Land of the Free._

He's not what you'd ever call a patriot but he liked where he lived and what he was and what it was (supposed to, _used_ to) represent.

It wasn't anything like this.

Supergirl is bleeding from the nose, but still, she smiles at him and turns her eyes to the sky; to the tangle of electrical wiring that she'd been warning Harley not to touch earlier. Virgil feels her vision burning hot besides him.

And then he spreads his fingers upwards, and feels the static energy tremble, mixing in with heat and laser and electrical cabling.

_'It's the only way.'_

_'Yeah. I know._

Somebody is screaming. **'No!'** But Virgil knows what he has to do.

He's always known, really.

Yeah. He's always known. And if this might stop the Justice Lords...

God bless America.

No. God Bless _Justice_.

**

* * *

**

**Oslen. **

Jimmy runs, because Green Arrow told him to, and he's getting pretty good at taking orders. The others must be causing a distraction, back there, because there's no way anyone can run away from Superman and expect to get away with it.

Well, maybe there was one person who could have, once. But that person isn't here now, and Jimmy… Jimmy didn't know them too well, anyway.

Jimmy knows Kara, and Ollie and Dinah. He knows Helena, he knows Harley. He knows the baby in his arms and…

He knows they're back in that building, fighting.

And he's running away.

Because of Green Arrow. Always the voice of reason.

Somehow that doesn't make him feel any better.

Jason murmurs in his arms and Jimmy clutches him that little bit tighter and stops running when he reaches the interchange of the road heading out of Gotham.

That's when he hears the building explode.

He's not entirely sure what causes it, but the entire block just goes _up_ behind him, and the shockwaves echo through the street in a way that makes Jason shriek in his arms. As Jimmy pauses, the Rebellion behind him shoots up in flames, like a tunnel of red taking over the sky. Someone is flying over the blaze but Jimmy can't make out who it is.

It's probably Superman. Heat vision, maybe. Or Hawkgirl with her mace. Or Static's…

Jimmy's not sure. If it was them it hasn't worked. Their last attempt to put an end to the Justice Lords. Jimmy's not sure what they were trying to do, but it hasn't worked.

Firing an arrow isn't like snapping a photograph, but the principles are the same. Practise, focus, take aim, fire.

Jimmy raises the camera to his eye and clicks the shutter.

_Fin._

* * *

**The phrase _"To the people here, the Flash is a symbol, take that away they'll just give up, like something out of a bad movie"_ is a modified from the following phrase from _The Flash_ television series from the 1990's: _"To the people of Central City, the Flash is a symbol, take that away and they'll just give up."_**

**The sentence "It's also common for him to get dizzy from blood loss before he's realised he's bleeding" is adapted from a statement made by _The Flash: The Secret of Barry Allen._**

**I know little about _Static Shock_ like, at all, so there _is_ a tiny bit of guess work going on here. I did my research but the pointing out of any errors would be appreciated.**

**I first encountered the theory of Jason Todd as the Joker and Harley Quinn's son in a fanfiction by _Merlin Missy_. Her fanfics can be located here: http://missy. It's in there somewhere, trust me. Check them out if you can. In particular her R'verse.**

**"So her last words to him were childish, Barbara thinks", is gacked from the end of the book "Z for Zachariah", they are the last words of an apocalypse survivor to another before she leaves in search of others. _"So my last words were childish"_. It's a frighteningly fantastic book. If you're into that stuff and get a chance, I suggest you pick it up.**


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